


A New Dawn

by macyourself



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Canon, post5.13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macyourself/pseuds/macyourself
Summary: Excerpt: Merlin’s legs felt like lead. He gulped; he could not face the voice he knew all too well. Nothing had changed. It was the same voice he had dreamt of all these years. He slowly turned around to face the man. It was him. The same sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes. A dress shirt and blazer hung over his broad shoulders, and his slacks fit him tightly, gripping to the muscle underneath. Merlin let out a sharp breath and felt tears begin to well up in his ancient eyes.---Merlin has been waiting over 1,500 years for Arthur to come back, and he begins to lose hope. He's seen everyone he's loved come and go, and he wonders if he should just die because he can't take it anymore.Life gets pretty lonely once you seclude yourself from all that hurts, but one day, Merlin sees a familiar face on the news, and it brings a youthful smile back to his face. Suddenly he's 20 again, and his long wait was well worth it.





	1. The Boy Who Waited

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after 5.13 so there are major spoilers if you have not watched it yet.

Merlin sat on the tattered old bench he remembered putting by the lake all those years ago. When Kilgharrah had said that Arthur was the once and future King, Merlin thought the future would have came sooner than now.

It was 2015, about 1,500 years after he said goodbye to his best friend, and Merlin had finally begun to lose hope. It was the comfort of Kilgharrah in the dragon’s final days, and now the visits from Aithusa that would get him through the years now. Merlin often wondered if he should just die already. He had the power to just die whenever he pleased nowadays, but he kept alive, and at this point he wasn’t sure why. Sure, if Arthur ever were to come back he would like to see that happen, but it was beginning to look like that would never happen.

 _When Albion’s need is greatest._ He remembered the dragon saying. Well, he thought that had been many times by now. He thought it was during the Plague, or during World War II, or any troubled time that England had been apart of. It seemed like things were getting better actually. Societal progress had been growing for hundreds of years, and Arthur had yet to come up, even in the darkest of times.

He remembered a meeting he had with Aithusa and Kilgharrah about 100 years after Arthur’s death. By that point, all of his friends he once had in Camelot, as well as their children, had for the most part all died. _Merlin, Arthur will return. He has to. It is his destiny._ Aithusa had said. _Even though you had to part with him, your time will come where you will be together. And he will need you again._ That was what kept him going, Merlin often told himself. Not that he would see Arthur again, but that he would be able to protect Arthur again. That was his true destiny.

Merlin eventually stopped visiting Aithusa as frequently, especially after Kilgharrah died. It only made him more upset, but the dragon would visit him from time to time. Just to check in on him. But Merlin stopped asking about Arthur. That would prove to be repetitive.

So, back to Merlin sitting on the bench in front of what was once known as the Lake of Avalon. Now, it was just an unnamed lake in the middle of a tiny cobblestone town outside of Cardiff. He ate a dry sandwich he had prepared for himself. He had a few apprentices at times that would also help him with housework like cooking, but over the years they would die, usually horribly. It got more dangerous for people with magic throughout the years, and now it was extremely rare to find someone with even slight magical abilities, let alone a powerful sorcerer like himself.

“Arthur,” he said to the lake, which was currently reflecting the brightest of mid afternoon skies. “I’m starting to give up. I don’t care if Albion doesn’t need you right now. I do.”

He sat up with a grunt and began to slowly walk home. Being an old man wasn’t all it cracked up to be. Of course, Merlin didn’t really age. At least, he didn’t have to. He noticed it one morning when he looked in the mirror at his face and saw the same twenty something year old looking back at him. But he wanted to appear more wise and wanted to experience what it was like to be old. He also felt like an old man attracted less attention than a young one, especially when he was up to no good, so he usually kept his elderly appearance when he was out in public. But sometimes he would change back and look at himself in his old mirror. The world had changed so much since he had been alive. He saw ancient kingdoms rise and fall. He saw technology begin to power human lives, and yet he, he had stayed the same.

\---

A few years later, Merlin found himself watching television. It was a pastime he rarely did. The concept of television was still relatively new to him, and he didn’t like what it had become. He would much rather read a newspaper. But, nonetheless, it was a Sunday afternoon, and he found himself falling asleep, occasionally opening his eyes to glance at whatever the BBC news had to offer.

“In political news this evening, a new dark horse political leader is rising to possibly become Britain’s next Prime Minister,” the reporter said. Oh great. Merlin thought. Another political leader trying to gain some power. British politics were in shambles at this point. Well, to be fair, everyone’s politics were in shambles, but Britain had had way too many scandals and tradings of power since the last general election. Too many scandals and too many people wanting to gain control of their party. “We all watch with wonder as a young Arthur Pendragon wins over the minds and support of many Labour Party members in the most recent debate.”

Merlin sat bolt upright in his chair. He looked at the screen and nearly had a heart attack. There, on the news, was the man he knew all those years ago: Arthur Pendragon. It was unbelievable. Unimaginable. How had Arthur risen without Merlin having any idea? He ran around his tiny flat, rummaging through cupboards and packing a satchel. He had no idea what his plan was, but he knew he had to leave instantly. Looking like an old man, he ran out the door with some potions and books, as well as some money for the train.

After a few busses and a long train ride, Merlin arrived in London. He had been to London a few times in his life, but mostly preferred to stay in his tiny town, away from the busy London streets. He was there most recently in World War II, where he helped Winston Churchill and the allies defeat the Nazis through very careful use of military power and magic. It had changed a lot since then. There were newer buildings, as well as buildings that had grown older. He had no idea where Arthur was, so he called upon someone he hadn’t seen in many years.

In a clearing, in a park where no one was around, Merlin called. “ _O drakon! E male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!_ ” A white winged beast flew out from the skies and landed next to Merlin.

“You are a long way from home, ancient warlock,” Aithusa said with a sly voice.

“It’s Arthur!” Merlin cried with excitement and disbelief. “He has risen! He is back!”

“It would appear so, but tread carefully, Merlin. For the time he has lived in is the past. He is a different man now. And you look very different to him. Very different indeed.”

“I don’t have to,” Merlin replied. He looked down at a puddle on the ground and watched his elderly face transform into the one he remembered from long ago. “This is my true face, Aithusa.”

“I know that, Emrys, but not only do you look different, you are different. What will Arthur think?” Aithusa said, beginning to flap her wings and disappear in the night sky.

“Wait! What do you mean?” Merlin asked. But Aithusa simply laughed, echoing throughout the empty park.

Merlin marched toward the nearest inn, which was a large chain hotel in a wealthy neighborhood. He walked up to the counter and the receptionist looked at him in disbelief. Oh right. Merlin thought. I look like I’m 28. I probably don’t exactly fit in. “Can I help you, sir?” the woman begrudgingly said.

“Yes. A room for uh- Merlin Emrys,” he said. The woman stifled a laugh, seemingly laughing at his name. The story of King Arthur had become widely known, although not entirely accurate. When people heard his name, an old wizard was usually all they could think of, and Merlin was used to the laughs or side eyes that his name brought him.

She typed on the computer and glanced back up at Merlin. “Hmm, I’m not seeing anything under that name.”

“Maybe you should check again,” Merlin said. She looked back at her computer screen and Merlin’s eyes glowed a golden yellow.

“I’m sorry, sir. It would appear you do have a suite on the 30th floor. I do apologize. Here is your key,” the woman said shakily. Merlin nodded with a smile before taking the room key and heading towards the lift.

The room was stupidly large, and Merlin laughed when he entered. If Lancelot could see him now he would be shaking his head and laughing, talking about how Merlin was always up to his tricks. It wasn’t often Merlin used his powers for fun, and he felt Gaius disapprove whenever he did, but sometimes he needed fun. It was a lonely life, and sometimes he needed the joy magic always seemed to bring him. He set his bag down and lay on the bed, thinking about a plan to see Arthur, wondering what he would say to him after all these years.


	2. That'll Be The Day

After Merlin woke up the next morning, he headed towards the center of the city and to the Parliament building, where he expected Arthur to be lingering. He was greeted there by many security guards and a front desk clerk typing away at a computer busily. Merlin began, “Hello-” She held one finger in the air and kept typing. Merlin awkwardly stopped and smiled.

After a few minutes the clerk replied. “Well, what is it?” She seemed annoyed.

“I’d like to see Arthur Pendragon please,” he said.

The clerk scoffed. “Wouldn’t we all. Now, if you would please depart, I have a lot of work to do.”

Merlin nodded with a smile and began to walk away before looking back at the clerk, now completely engrossed in her computer. “ _Andslyht,_ ” he incanted. A door flew open to the left of the front desk and the guards walked warily over to investigate. Merlin quickly and quietly ran to the right door. It had been a while since he had had to do that.

After entering the main floor of the Parliament building, he began searching around for different offices. He found a few for some elite party members, but none for Arthur. Of course he wouldn’t have an office. Merlin thought. He’s new on the scene. He would just be with someone else. But who? Merlin walked down the dark corridor leading to the main debate chamber. He peered in through the door and saw about half the seats filled. Nothing was going on, and the men and women were all just sitting and talking.

“Merlin?!” a voice shouted in a whisper behind him.

Merlin’s legs felt like lead. He gulped; he could not face the voice he knew all too well. Nothing had changed. It was the same voice he had dreamt of all these years. He slowly turned around to face the man. It was him. The same sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes. A dress shirt and blazer hung over his broad shoulders, and his slacks fit him tightly, gripping to the muscle underneath. Merlin let out a sharp breath and felt tears begin to well up in his ancient eyes.

“Arthur,” he finally breathed out.

Arthur’s expression of confusion quickly turned into a soft smile and he spoke. “Merlin, I- what are you doing here?”

Merlin barely knew how to begin to answer that question. He wanted to tell Arthur everything. He wanted to hear everything from Arthur, but something was wrong. He could sense voices coming down the corridor, and soon enough they both heard footsteps.

“There, he went down this way!” the muffled voice of a guard said. Uh oh.

“Always getting yourself into trouble I see. Come on, let’s go!” Arthur said.

He grabbed Merlin’s arm and they ran down the corridor, fleeing through halls and doorways. Suddenly Merlin felt like he was back in the golden age of Camelot, running toward adventure with Arthur, except this time, they had a lot of catching up to do.

\---

They arrived in Arthur’s flat, and Merlin sat down on a leather armchair, still in shock. Arthur went to the kitchen and began to make a cup of tea, coming back moments later with two mugs in hand. He handed one to Merlin.

“It has been quite a long time, Arthur,” he finally managed to speak.

“What-” Arthur stammered, “what the hell is going on? Merlin, I’ve been looking for someone to help me for months. Someone to explain why I’m back here, and so far no one can do it. So far, no one even knows that I’m a King, or I guess that I was a King.”

Merlin pursed his lips and began. “Kilgharrah, the dragon. On that day you died he told me that one day you would come back when Albion needed you most. He told me that you were the once and future King. I waited 1500 years for you to come back, and to be honest I began to think that the time would never come. When did you rise? How? What happened?” Merlin asked glancing back up at Arthur who was staring at him with cold eyes.

“I’m not sure,” he continued, “One minute I’m dying in your arms and the next minute I’m washed up on a lake shore in armor and chainmail in 2018. I began to walk around until I found some people who were willing to help me. I explained that I didn’t know where I was or when it was for that matter, but they clothed me and fed me until I had regained enough strength to find a flat, and they told me that I was destined to work in politics. I felt that calling.”

“But, why did they help you? Why would they help a stranger who looked like he just walked out of the year 500?”

“They were a family of sorcerers, Merlin. They knew who I was as soon as I said what happened. It is a miracle that I met them.”

  
“It was fate,” Merlin corrected. Arthur drew his lips into a thin line and took a sip of his tea. “I didn’t think there were any sorcerers out there anymore. Most of them are long gone.”

“That’s what they said. They wouldn’t fill me in on anything though. They said I needed to find an old friend. Someone who told me all that had happened. I assumed it was you, but I didn’t know how to find you or where you were. You didn’t make it very easy,” Arthur said.

Merlin smiled and looked into Arthur’s eyes as the man took his blazer off. “Sorry,” he began, “I’ve been around for over a thousand years; I’m not really hip to the new technology. I’m pretty off the grid.”

“So what happened? What happened after I died? To Camelot? To Gwen? To Gaius? To everyone? I need to know, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed and twisted the tea bag around in his mug. He hated looking back, but Arthur did need to know, and he had waited over a thousand years to tell him.

\---

_Merlin hung around the forest for a few months after Arthur died, not quite ready to head back to Camelot. He sent word through a message attached to an enchanted bird that Arthur was dead, but he felt almost ashamed to go back there after he had failed. In fact, he never wanted to go back again, but he kept having dreams of Arthur. And Arthur would tell him that he needed to go back to Camelot. That he needed to go and make sure that the Kingdom they built would stay peaceful. But he didn’t want to listen. It hurt too much._

_Gaius sent him a letter back in the months he remained in the forest. Merlin almost didn’t open it, but his curiosity eventually got the best of him._

_Dearest Merlin,_  
_My chambers have been a lonely place without you. The Queen would like you to know that she appreciates your constant sacrifice for Camelot, and she knows there is nothing you could have done to save King Arthur. She too knows that one day he will rise again as the once and future King. You are welcome back any time in Camelot. The practice of magic has been legalized, and I believe it will remain that way for many years to come thanks to you, Merlin. You have a bright future as a young warlock, and Camelot could use someone like you to look after them._  
_I understand you not wanting to come back, but just know that you have not failed, and there will be many opportunities to prove yourself and receive the credit you deserve for your actions. You are a true hero, Merlin, and I am so proud of the man you have become._  
_Gaius_

_Merlin eventually came back after pondering over the letter for many weeks. He was greeted with a festival and celebration honouring him, and all that he had done for Camelot. But something didn’t feel right because Arthur wasn’t there to call him a prick or to shout at him for his less than ideal servant behaviors. Because Merlin wasn’t a servant to everyone anymore, he was a hero, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that._

_Queen Guinevere offered him a place at the round table as Court Sorcerer and to be knighted, which he denied graciously. Lancelot, Gwaine, and Elyan were no longer there anyway, and it felt empty without them. After two weeks of living with Gaius again and helping out around the castle, not as a servant, but as a sorcerer, Merlin decided it was time for him to leave. He built himself a hut halfway between the Citadel and the Lake of Avalon, telling Gaius and Gwen that if they ever needed him, they knew where to find him. He was called upon many times by the Queen and helped her defeat many foes who served as a threat to the Kingdom Arthur and Merlin had built._

_Gaius died many years after that, and Merlin stood in as the Court Physician for a few weeks until they found a new one. Guinevere begged Merlin to take the job, but he wouldn’t, so he helped the Queen find a replacement. A young Seer with slight magical abilities and an extensive knowledge on medicine. She looked up to Merlin and became one of his first apprentices; he grew very fond of her and all the good she did for Camelot, but everyone’s time had to come to an end._

_Queen Guinevere died after a long and full life with Sir Leon and Sir Percival at her side, her highest praised knights and consultants. The queen had two children; she found out she was pregnant after Arthur had died, but they were Arthur’s sons. Twin boys named Booker and Oliver who ruled Camelot together after their mother’s death, leading by principles of fairness, compassion, and freedom, principles that their grandfather, Uther, never really upheld. One of them, Booker, was a sorcerer, but the two continued to rule together in harmony. The boys often came to Merlin for advice, and to hear stories about their father, the great King Arthur- stories that were passed down from them to their children, and from their children to their own children, and so on._

_Of course, Camelot eventually fell. Just like all great kingdoms, it was inevitable. It happened many years after all of his friends had passed, and he had long been forgotten. But Merlin wasn’t happy to see it go. It was one of the last places on earth where magic was practiced freely._

_Over the years, Merlin moved closer and closer to the lake, waiting for the day his prince- no his king- would come. Times changed. People grew wiser, and eventually Merlin and his King were but a legend of the past, told to children at bedtime when they were young. But nothing ever made Merlin forget. As magic died out, Merlin kept his guard up, ready to be apart of something again, and nothing, not even 1500 years could change that._

\---

“Wow,” Arthur said, tears in his eyes.

Merlin took a sip from his tea; it was cold. He warmed it up and his eyes glowed. Arthur stared at him, drinking his tea too, which of course was now warm.

“I know I told you this before I died,” Arthur paused, “That feels weird to say. But anyway, I just want to say thank you so much for everything you did for me. I had so much time to reflect on everything, and I now understand why you did all that you did. And although I would like to say that you should’ve told me you had magic, I know why you didn’t, and I appreciate that. But thank you for all those times I thought I was lucky because now I know that it was you. You did not fail at protecting me. You protected me until fate decreed that I had to die, and not any man, not even the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk this earth, could change that fate. And, Merlin, I also wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I treated you-”

“Arthur stop. It’s fine. I understand. I truly do. You are my best friend, and there will be plenty of time for you to apologize after we find out why you were brought back,” Merlin said.

“You’re right. Your magic is powerful, Merlin, and now I don’t feel so bad about losing all those card games and dice rolls to you.”

“Hey, this changes nothing, you’re still rubbish at cards!” Merlin said with a laugh.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. Merlin knew it was good to have him back, but that didn’t change the fact that he was back, which meant that Albion’s needs were the greatest now. And something bad was bound to happen soon. So they decided to go back to the Parliament building, and Arthur had a new assistant by his side.


	3. Thinking About Tomorrow

“Merlin, this is Lance Eldridge,” Arthur said, introducing Merlin to a man wearing a suit in tie. He had some scruff and short curly brown hair.

Merlin recoiled a bit. “Good to meet you, Merlin,” Lance said with a familiar smile. “We’re going to be passing some legislation soon if you’d like to come and watch.”

There was something a little too familiar about him. Lance strutted down the corridor and entered the chamber as Arthur and Merlin followed. He looked almost uncannily similar to Lancelot, but that was impossible. Lancelot died saving Merlin and Arthur by sacrificing himself to close the veil to the other world. And then Morgana brought him back as a pawn to enchant Gwen to fall in love with him. It dawned on Merlin that Arthur never knew that Gwen didn’t actually betray him. He thought Gwen had actually cheated on him and that Lancelot was actually himself. He made note to tell Arthur about that some time.

“Arthur,” Merlin started.

“I know. He looks like Sir Lancelot. Remember, although centuries have passed for you, only moments have passed for me,” Arthur said.

“But how is that possible?” Merlin whispered. “He was not supposed to come back.”

“I believe he might be reincarnated?” Arthur said, the statement coming out as more of a question than an answer.

“I disagree. I have been alive for far too long, Arthur. And I have never seen anyone be reincarnated.”

Arthur turned to Merlin before they entered the Parliament chamber. “Then I guess this is something even your old eyes haven’t seen, Merlin. You may have lived a long time, but you do not know everything.”

Merlin bit his lip, and they headed into the chamber. He was far wiser than Arthur now, yet here he was, centuries old, being pushed around by a man just shy of 30. Loud, political voices were debating everywhere. He could sense the stench of political leaders in the air. Rolling his eyes, he followed Arthur to his seat next to Lance.

“So, how did you get into Parliament? Isn’t it difficult to get elected by members of the constituency? Especially if you don’t know them? Especially because you didn’t grow up wherever you got elected from?” Merlin whispered as members began to quiet down.

“A man. His name was Peter Olson. He died suddenly, and the constituency from South London voted on a new representative. That family that I told you about. They helped me basically forge a life on the books stating that I existed so I could run for office. From there, all I had to do was win them over with my exceedingly impressive charm and wit,” Arthur replied; he flashed Merlin a smile and turned back toward the speaker on the floor who was just getting ready to begin speaking.

“Today we bring about a new bill regarding a restriction on immigration,” the man said.

Merlin looked over at Arthur who was organizing files and taking notes. He handed Merlin a few files and began to whisper to him.

“I hate this guy,” Arthur said, “His name is David Haicron. He’s a conservative, but he’s a little radical. Excellent public speaker though.”

Merlin read through the files regarding the motion and what it meant for Britain. The passing of the bill would mean that they would cut the amount of refugees they took in by half, and every immigrant coming into the country would have to go through a rigorous screening process that would take foreseeable years. Merlin shook his head.

“And how do you see this being a positive thing?” Merlin snapped his head up and realized the question had come from Arthur. Everyone sitting around them shifted uncomfortably. Haicron glanced up from his notes.

“Pardon?” he said, slightly annoyed.

“How do you see this bill benefitting anyone? Because it seems to me like it’s going to cause people to unnecessarily suffer when they need us most,” Arthur stated, standing up from his seat.

Merlin sighed. How did he manage to always get himself into situations like this? He was just too good of a person to stand by and take it. And he was too used to having power to let other people rule for a change.

“Mr. Pendragon,” Haicron began, “these people are a security threat to our country. I am benefitting all of the citizens of the UK’s lives by supporting this bill. There will be no more terrorist attacks. I will not stand for them, and I am sure that you do not either. After all, you wouldn’t want your people getting hurt, would you?”

Damn, he was good.

“With all due respect, sir, these people are not terrorists. They are refugees who are in danger in their own homes right now. They have nowhere else to go-”  
“And what’s to stop a terrorist or any immigrant from claiming to be in danger when in reality they just want to harm British citizens. I’m sorry, Pendragon, but I will not tolerate and risk to British men, women, and children’s lives on the off chance that it could help someone from another country. I serve the United Kingdom. Not the middle east.”

A hush fell over the Parliament. Lance stood up. “Haicron, there is no evidence to suggest that terrorist attacks on British soil have been stopped because of immigration reforms.”

“Then they are not harsh enough!” Haicron shot back.

The Chair or Parliament interrupted, “Ladies and gentlemen, I believe this is time to adjourn the Parliament for the day. We will continue to put this movement forward on Monday.”

Arthur, Lance, and Haicron eyed each other with frustration, but people began shuffling and talking once again. Arthur burst out the door quickly and Merlin followed. He had to keep more of a low profile. It probably wouldn’t look good that he was challenging long time Parliament members or that he was hot tempered like this.

“Arthur-”

“I cannot believe he got to have the last word on that one!” Arthur said, putting on his suit jacket.

“Arthur, it’s fine. You can tear him apart on Monday-”

“All of his arguments are based on fear. All the time. I just… I’m so sick of him.”

Arthur made his way to a conference room and shut the door in Merlin’s face. _Great_. Merlin thought. _Now I have to awkwardly stand out here while Arthur gets to throw a hissy fit._ Merlin noticed another door to his right and down the hall cracked open. Members of Parliament were leaving the building all around him, but he heard a voice come from inside. It sounded like Haicron, so he peeked through the door, glancing around to see that no one was looking.

“This is not what I want, Wordwall, and you know it!” Haicron said to his assistant. She sat down on a table and listened to Haicron speak. “This bill is too relaxed. It needs to be stronger, but I wouldn’t be able to keep this seat if I was too radical. And then that Pedragon. Who does he think he is? He has been in Parliament or what? Two months? He has no idea what he’s doing. Someone needs to show him his place!”

Haicron picked up some papers he had flung onto the floor and began to head for the door. Merlin scampered back down the hallway outside of the room Arthur was in. He knocked furiously.

“Arthur, come on out!” Merlin yelled.

Haicron eyed him with disgust as his assistant and him walked down the corridor. Merlin pretended not to notice him, and Arthur opened the door just as they turned the corner.

“Sorry. I’m fine. That man. He just really upsets me. He cares for no one but himself and his career.”

The two began walking down the hallway, and Merlin didn’t speak until they had left the building, going down the stairs to the tube.

“I think that Haicron is dangerous,” Merlin said with caution.

Arthur looked at him with confusion and scoffed. “What do you mean? Power hungry? Yes. Morally corrupt? Definitely. But dangerous? I doubt it. Have you seen how big that man is? I’m surprised he can walk on his own.”

“I overheard him talking to his assistant about the bill being too moderate for him. He’s lying to his constituents, Arthur. He’s far more right than he tells them. Don’t you think that's suspicious?”

“Merlin, he just wants to get reelected. It’s not that deep. I promise you, he’s not dangerous, just a wack job. Now, can we just stop talking about it? I’ve got a weekend to worry about how I’m going to make sure that bill doesn’t pass. It’s Friday. Let’s do something that isn’t work,” Arthur pleaded.

It was just like the good old days. Merlin held his tongue, looked out the window of the Underground and shook his head. Arthur didn’t believe him yet again, and he didn’t have the effort to argue. He didn’t want Arthur to get upset again. Besides, his friend was probably right. Haicron was just a scummy old politician whose moral compass was so skewed that there was no hope. So Merlin did what he always had done, and he shut up. 


	4. Thinking Past Tomorrow

“Merlin,” Arthur said, snapping Merlin away from his book.

“Hmm,” Merlin answered, still not fully listening. He was engrossed in a story that was helping him forget about the events of Friday.

“What were my sons like?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s eyes shot up to look at Arthur. He hadn’t thought about Booker and Oliver in years. Too many memories. He was surprised by his friend’s questions, assumed that Arthur would brush the many generations of family after him under the rug in order to suppress his feelings. _Maybe,_ Merlin thought, _it would come up one day. But not soon._ After all, normally people who died didn’t get the chance to ask about what happened after their death.

“They were…” Merlin found himself lost for words. Memories came flooding back to him of Gwen holding her two sons in her arms, tears streaming down her face.

_“They remind me so much of Arthur,” She had said even when they were only a few days old._

It was true. They were like Arthur, and Merlin found that they were even more so as they grew older. The two twins visited him often in their youth, but Merlin also found that the more they reminded him of Arthur, the harder it was to look at them. So their visits were few and far between in their teen years, and it remained that way until the war happened. Merlin shook his head at that memory, focussing back on Arthur who was staring him down, anxious for an answer.

“Noble,” Merlin decided, finishing the sentence that was interrupted by his thoughts. “Kind. Intelligent. Booker was always eager to learn about his magic, and Oliver was more focussed on military leadership, but they were both excellent commanders.”

Arthur pursed his lips, and Merlin thought he might see Arthur cry, but it didn’t happen. Instead Arthur just sat back in his chair an sipped on some tea. “I wish I could’ve been there for them as you and Guinevere were.”

Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell Arthur that he had not done much in their lives until it was far too late, so he simply nodded. But Merlin wasn’t the type to not give credit where credit was due, so he said, “Gaius was also a significant influence on their lives.”

Arthur smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

The two men sat awkwardly for a moment before Merlin returned to reading his book. Arthur pressed no further, and Merlin was relieved. Not only did speaking of that past bring up memories he’d rather forget, but Arthur would probably not want to hear what came of it. He had embellished the past slightly when he was telling Arthur what he had missed earlier. Not lied, but some of the harmony he spoke of was a little off from the truth. Maybe one day he would tell Arthur more about those days, but that day was not today.

\---

On Saturday night, Merlin had a dream.

Lancelot was walking through a forest Merlin did not recognize. He watched the leaves crush underneath the Knight’s feet as he stepped quietly through the woods. Lance was dressed in chainmail, just like back when he was a knight of Camelot, and a look of perplexity was strewn across his face. He came upon a distant hooded figure, and Merlin wanted to look away, but the dream wouldn’t let him. His magic willed him to keep watching.

“You dare come across this plain, brave Knight,” the figure said. It was a female. Merlin didn’t seem to recognize the voice, but he could feel enchantment radiating from the noise, so he assumed whoever it was was using magic to sound different.

“There is nothing for me in this world any longer, my lady. Please, let me die this time,” Lancelot pleaded.

“Your work is not done here yet. But I know this is the last time you will be awoken from your slumber. You must stay once more. Here, take this.” She handed him a piece of paper, but Merlin could not see what it was. Then, she turned directly toward wherever Merlin was watching from and shivered. “Someone is watching us from the distant future. I fear it is the Sorcerer. You must go.”

Merlin’s vision blurred and he woke in a sweat, huffing the air in a panic. He had to tell Arthur.

\---

“No,” Arthur replied.

“No, what?” Merlin pried, early Sunday morning. He hadn’t gotten back to sleep after the dream, so he had stayed up, waiting for Arthur in the living room.

“No, Lance is not up to something, if that’s what you were implying.”

“But Arthur,” Merlin pleaded, “The dream means something.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t think it implies that Lance has been raised from the dead, yet again. He’s probably just reincarnated or something. There is no way that he is the Lancelot who knows about me being the King,” Arthur argued. Merlin sighed, frustrated.

“Fine, but be wary, please.” Arthur simply nodded and went to the kitchen to make his coffee.

Tomorrow they would be in Parliament again, and they would surely see Lance. Merlin would deal with it then. He trusted Lancelot; he was the only one of the knights who knew about his magic, but he could not be sure that this new Lance was not under a spell of come sort. He thought about investigating, but decided he shouldn’t. Then a thought dawned on him.

If Merlin didn’t investigate, and something happened to Arthur, he would never forgive himself. So he waited until later on in the day and told Arthur he was going to the market. Arthur didn’t question him because he was so engrossed in the latest episode of some reality show that Merlin didn’t even bother trying to watch.

He had used magic to find Lance’s address, which Merlin knew was wrong, but he didn’t really have a choice. Merlin stomped outside in the mucky weather. It was raining, and he forgot an umbrella, but he sucked it up and continued to walk to the tube station. Merlin took the train across town and ended up next to Lance’s building about a half an hour later, drenched from head to toe, his feet swimming in his oversized boots.

Merlin closed his eyes and attempted to reach out with his magic to see if Lance was in. Something wouldn’t let him. Merlin raised an eyebrow, perplexed that something like that would happen in the 21st century. Lance’s apartment was heavily warded against his magic, which was strange. No one knew magic existed except those who had it, so he was automatically more suspicious of Lance.

The sorcerer took the lift to the fourth floor and walked down to Lance’s flat’s door. He listened in and heard nothing, so he stepped even closer to the door to listen even harder. His magic repelled him to get closer, screeching that something was wrong, but Merlin didn’t listen. He had to find out what was going on. Merlin frowned when he tried to use his magic to open the door. Of course he couldn’t use his magic; he had already established that the place was guarded against him. Merlin ran through some possible solutions in his mind. He remembered learning how to pick a lock from a merchant at some point in the 10th century, but he couldn’t exactly remember how, and the locks today were probably much more advanced than back then.

Just to see more what he was dealing with, Merlin reached out to jiggle the handle. It opened with ease. Thank the gods Lance was a forgetful man. Pleasantly surprised and pretty sure there was no one inside, Merlin stepped in. The place had a negative energy to it. Merlin could feel his magic being plugged up, and it made him uncomfortable, so he decided to look around quickly. He searched through some drawers and found nothing but junk. The trash had old take out in it that was probably from yesterday. Everything looked pretty normal.

Merlin went into the bedroom just to be sure everything was thoroughly investigated. The bed sheets were red, and the room had hardly any decor in it at all. The walls were bare, and the only furniture was a brown nightstand and a wardrobe across from the bed. Merlin looked in the drawer of the nightstand--nothing but cheap romance novels and some sheets of paper. He went over to the wardrobe and opened it up.

Merlin’s mouth almost dropped fully. Inside the wardrobe was a full set of Camelot Knight armor. There were two black suits shoved in the back, but the armor was at the forefront of it all. He didn’t know what to do or what to say, but his suspicions appeared to be confirmed. Merlin quickly closed the wardrobe just as he heard the front door begin to open.


	5. Seems Like A Dream

To say that his escape was less than ideal would be an understatement. As soon as Merlin heard the front door opening at Lance’s flat, he knew he had to get out of there, and get out of there fast. The curse was still corrupting his magical abilities, and he simply moved faster than he could think.

Before he knew it, Merlin was jumping out of the fourth floor window. As soon as he leapt out, he felt his magic return to him more completely, and he recited a spell as he hit the ground, meaning he was cushioned, but only barely. Merlin groaned when he hit the ground, which felt like he had just fell on grass from 3 meters instead of pavement from 15. Knowing Lance would’ve surely heard the commotion, Merlin quickly stood up and ran, pushing through the ache of his right shoulder.

When he arrived back at Arthur’s, no groceries in hand, Arthur was puzzled.

“DIdn’t you go to the market?” Arthur questioned him after setting down the Sunday paper and glancing up at Merlin.

“They didn’t have bananas,” Merlin quickly replied.

“What’s a banana?” Arthur asked.

Sometimes it was like talking to someone who was born yesterday, or more realistically, someone who just walked out of a lake a few months ago.

\---

The immigration bill hearing didn’t go great, but it also didn’t go terribly. A slightly watered down legislation ended up being passed, calling for more screening on immigrants coming from “terrorist prone” countries, whatever that meant. Arthur was still disappointed, and he left for lunch without Merlin.

As Merlin wondered the lonely halls of the Houses of Parliament, he pondered what to do about Lance, and what it all meant. As if on cue, he heard the familiar voice coming from the same room Haicron and his assistant had been at on Friday.

“As you can see my boy, our plan is running in full force, and I need to know if you’ll be on my side officially,” Haicron said.

Merlin stood next to the wall and used his magic to amplify the sounds he heard through the door. He made sure to wait just around the corner from the door in case someone were to come out, but he continued to listen intently.

“I will have to think about it, Haicron. Your offer is very generous,” Lance replied.

The Sorcerer put a hand over his mouth and his eyes widened. Just as Merlin had suspected, the knight armor in Lance’s wardrobe had meant something far worse than he thought. Here he was, planning on teaming up with Haicron.

“Lance, your service on boosting my party’s campaign through bipartisan leadership would be greatly appreciated,” Haicron said.

He heard the men shuffle and some murmured goodbyes were given. Then, footsteps grew louder as someone came closer to the door. Lance stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Merlin thought about waiting to talk to him, but decided it couldn’t wait a moment. He lurched out from his spot around the corner and grabbed Lance. He put a hand over the young man’s mouth and struggled to over power him, but somehow managed to bring him into the supply closet that was positioned across the hall.

“Merlin! What the hell?” Lance said once his eyes adjusted to the light of closet. Merlin flashed his eyes gold and pinned the knight up from a distance. “Merlin!”

Merlin couldn’t stand by and do nothing; he would do anything to protect Arthur, including interrogating someone who was once his friend.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Lancelot. I know you’re up to know good; I saw the armor in your wardrobe.” He paused. “Tell me what your plans are with Arthur!” Merlin demanded. He pushed Lance tighter to the wall with his magic, and Lance grimaced in pain.

The only light in the dim closet was the golden glow coming from Merlin's eyes. They remained ablaze as he continued to use his magic, and he couldn’t help but glance at himself slightly in the hazy reflection of the metallic bin. He looked slightly deranged, but at the same time, his measures were all calculated, and he knew what he was doing.

“Wardrobe? What? How did you?” Merlin pushed harder. “Okay! Okay!” He released slightly. “I’ll admit it! I walked out of a lake a few years ago in medieval armor; I had no recollection of anything or who I was, but I knew I needed to stop Haicron.” Another pause. “And I needed to help Arthur.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Really? How dumb do you think I am, Lance? Arthur wasn’t even here until less than a year ago. How would you know who he was? Now, tell me your plans with Haicron. Now.”

Merlin pushed the man back up to the wall with force. Lance cursed in pain. “Ah! Merlin stop! I swear I don’t know anything! The thought was just implanted in my memory. I had to get here and get elected and help Arthur. I promise I’m not lying!”

“Prove it.”

“I- I don’t know how. When I got out of the lake a family of sorcerers helped me for a few months before I got a place of my own,” he said.

Merlin let Lance down to the floor, but kept his magic bound tightly around him, just in case. The glow in his eyes dimmed.

“Wait, a family of sorcerers? Who?” Merin questioned, feeling a sense of familiarity with Arthur’s story. It was entirely possible their fates were still intertwined, and maybe Lance needed to be here.

“I’m not sure,” Lance said, out of breath, fixing his suit around his shoulders which had since been mangled by Merlin’s magic. “They said that they were druids though.”

Merlin pursed his lips and looked around the closet. He felt inclined to trust Lance’s story, even if it was just for the moment. “You need to come with me, then,” Merlin said, inexplicably. He kept his grasp of magic close to Lance as he opened the door, in search of Arthur.

Lance stood closely to him as the two men walked down the hall. “You have a whole lot of questions to answer for me then, Merlin. Because I’ve been living a lie for years.”

\---

Arthur reflectively glared over the room, hands pressed together by his mouth. Merlin was sitting on the couch with Lance while Arthur remained in his large armchair, back straight and head held high. They had come home in relative silence after they had to Arthur explained what Lance had told Merlin in the office. But Arthur looked like he had something to say, as if he was trying to find a way to make the words come out of his mouth, and Merlin didn’t want to cut him off if he had thought of something important.

“So you remember nothing?” Arthur asked, seemingly unconvinced.

“Not a whole lot, no,” Lance replied. He scratched at his head and took off his suit jacket. “I just know that I am supposed to protect you, and I know that Haicron is bad news.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Haicron may be an asshole but I don’t think he’s necessarily a villian.”

Merlin and Lance looked at each other and shifted uncomfortably. Arthur glanced up, and, noticing their discomfort, rolled his eyes. He took a sip of his tea. “Are you both seriously under the assumption that Haicron is some evil mastermind like Morgause or even bloody Morgana?”

Merlin coughed awkwardly. “I don’t believe we can discount that, sire--I mean Arthur.” Lance nodded in agreement, not entirely certain he remembered anyone called Morgause or Morgana. “You were supposed to rise when Albion needed you most; we have to assume something terrible must be afoot.”

Arthur set down his mug and clapped his hands together. “Well, I don’t suppose either of you thought that maybe Albion never needed me more and the universe just took a look at me at the bottom of Lake Avalon and said ‘hey this lad’s been out a while; why don’t we bring him back?’’

Merlin’s mouth twitched. “Don’t you dare say that,” Merlin muttered.

“Sorry?” Arthur said, beckoning Merlin to speak up.

“I said, don’t you dare say that!” Merlin answered. He rose to his feet and galred at Arthur from above. “Don’t you dare say that Albion never needed you. I’ve seen this world torn to pieces in war and conflict, and every time I thought about you. I thought this--this is the time he’ll be back. And it never happened. So pardon me if after centuries of the worst kind of hardship, I thought that this time must be pretty damn important for the universe to bring you back from the dead!”

Arthur gaped, staring into Merlin’s pressing blue eyes and waited. Merlin cleared his throat and sat back down, realizing that he might’ve gone a little overboard with his point.

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered. “I didn’t--I didn’t realize.” There was a pause. “So, Lance. Tell me about this conversation you had with Haicron.”

As Lance told Arthur about the proposition Haicron made, Merlin zoned out. His outburst had caused him to remember all those centuries of discomfort and unwillingness to believe that his king had not returned. In particular, a moment just 20 years after Arthur’s death stuck out to him.

\---

_“Are you really telling me he’s not coming back?” Merlin said with utter disbelief._

_“Not yet, young warlock,” Kilgharrah replied._

_“This is bloody war on Camelot! We’re never going to get anywhere without him!” Merlin protested._

_“It is not yet his destiny, Emrys. You know in your heart that his sons are handling it,” the dragon replied._

_Merlin was almost on the verge of tears. “But--but they need him.” A pause. “I need him.”_

_“I am getting very old. I fear you will not be able to call upon me for advice much longer.” The old dragon began to flap its wings._

_“No! Please! Stop!” The dragon flew further away. “I need to know when he will come back!”_

_The dragon was far out of sight, but a familiar voice in his mind said, ‘I have a feeling you will be waiting a long time.’_

\---

Merlin was snapped from his memories by a knock at the door, interrupting Lance.

“Who’s that?” Merlin asked. “Were you expecting visitors?”

Arthur shook his head and got up to answer the door. He made his way slowly to the front entrance, and Merlin stood as well, suspicious of who would be knocking on Arthur’s door at this time. As far as Merlin knew, Arthur didn’t really have many friends yet. The blond unlocked the bolt lock and suspiciously tugged at the handle.

As soon as it opened, Merlin stayed as still as a board. He couldn’t--no, he didn’t want to believe it. He blinked slowly before acknowledging that the woman’s face went from confusion to happiness in an instant. Merlin didn’t know whether to cry or attack, but before he could think anymore, Arthur spoke to confirm what his eyes were seeing.

“Guinevere?”

 


	6. In Trance

After the initial shock of seeing the woman at the door, in period clothing, just as old as she had been when Arthur died, Merlin drilled her with questions. They were all sitting in the room with Lance now.

“How are you here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t know”

“Why are you young? No offense, but last time I saw you, you were not young.”

“Why are you young?” she shot back, her brown eyes gleaming with wit and anticipation. Yep, it was the Guinevere he knew.

“That’s a valid point,” Merlin started. “But I have magic. You do not.”

Gwen was silent, and she shifted toward Arthur, who hadn’t said a word since she had sat down. Lance looked at Gwen with a kind of longing glare, but he looked away after a few seconds.

“Look,” Lance said. “I can imagine this is all very confusing for everyone, and obviously we were all supposed to be here. But I don’t remember anything, and you lot do.”

“I don’t need to remember. I’ve been alive this whole time. I’ve been waiting,” Merlin said sourly.

He could feel the tension build in the room, but he didn’t care. His anger welled up inside of him, and he clenched his fists. This was supposed to be him and Arthur. Arthur was supposed to rise, and Merlin would be there to help him once more. No one else was destined to be apart of this.

“Something is very wrong,” he said calmly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“No shit,” Arthur said under his breath.

“I’m serious. I think someone is bringing you all back when you’re not supposed to. This was supposed to be just Arthur. He was the one who was prophesied to return. None of you were supposed to come back.” Merlin’s face was red, and his throat felt dry. He swallowed hard.

“Merlin, what on earth are you talking about?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe we all just need some water,” Gwen said. “Arthur, Lancelot, could you go fetch us some please.” Arthur and Lance looked at each other and nodded, going into the kitchen.

Guinevere turned to Merlin and gave him a sweet smile. “I’m sorry this isn’t working out the way you wanted it to, Merlin. But I am very glad to see you.”

Merlin couldn't help but melt at her eyes. She was so calm and understanding in the face of it all, and Merlin wished he could be as composed as her. “Do you know what I thought when I woke up on the shore of that lake?” she asked. Merlin shrugged. “I thought that I had dreamed it all. You, the boys, my whole life. There are tall buildings here, and things I have never seen before. But the family of sorcerers explained it to me, and they told me where to go. To find you, and Arthur and--”

  
“Wait, sorry? Did you just say family of sorcerers?” Merlin asked. Gwen squinted but nodded. “Okay, that’s it. You lot are taking me to this family. They are the only common factor between everyone, and I need to find out what is going on,” he said loudly, so Arthur and Lance could hear from the kitchen. The two men stumbled out, eager for information.

How could Merlin not have thought of that sooner? Was it not just a little strange that the cryptic ‘family of sorcerers’ was linked between all of them. He felt stupid, but he was willing to bet that whatever family this was, they had some answers.

\---

The cottage on the opposite side of the Lake of Avalon from Merlin’s own home was modest. Right under his nose, and Merlin never knew of the home of sorcerers here. The chimney was billowing smoke, and there were no other houses around as it was in one of the only small patches of forest in the area.

“So you all went to this house?” Merlin asked. He looked around at the group. Lance, Gwen, and Arthur all nodded their heads. “Here goes nothing then, I guess.” He walked up the door and knocked loudly.

Suddenly, the door was thrust open, revealing a small boy, probably about 10 or 11 years old. He had big brown eyes and dark blond hair. He stared up at Merlin. “Hi there,” Merlin said. “Are your parents home?”

The boy raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded. He turned around and shouted, “Mother! Father! Emrys has arrived!”

Merlin almost jumped at the sound of that name. He had used it as a surname all these years, but something about the way the boy had said it, with almost a knowing tone, made Merlin uneasy. He had never seen the boy in his life, and he wondered just how he could’ve known the name.

A man came running to the door. He was older, and he had jet black hair and scruff. He opened the door with a smile, inviting Merlin and his friends in with a hand. “Friends! It is good to see you back!” he exclaimed, addressing Gwen, Lance, and Arthur.

“Maxwell,” everyone but Merlin said in unison, with bright smiles. Merlin looked over his shoulder at his friends in suspicion. This guy was way too friendly.

“Please, please, come in.”

The four of them stepped in, and Merlin almost recoiled backward at the smell in the house. It stunk of rotten eggs and burnt meat. He made a face in disgust.

As if reading Merlin’s mind, Maxwell said, “You will have to excuse us for the smell; there were some er--potions that went wrong today.”

The whole house was one giant room with curtains dividing the room in various spots. It was round, with no corners, which was weird, as the house from the outside looked like a box. Come to think of it, the house from the outside looked much, much smaller than what he was seeing on the inside. He didn’t think too much of it as he had seen weirder magical enchantments on homes.

The kitchen was bustling with pots and pans scrubbing themselves, a trick Merlin had learned long ago. There was a woman with stark, silver hair sitting on the couch, but despite her gray hair she appeared to be young--in her 20’s or 30’s. The girl sitting next to her was an older teenager in a dress that looked like it was a school girl’s uniform. It was knee length, all black, with a white collar on it.

“Hello, Emrys,” the woman with silver hair said. Her voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Er--hi,” Merlin stammered. He turned to look at his friends; all of their eyes appeared to be glazed over in amazement. “I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind…” he trailed off.

“Most certainly, most certainly,” Maxwell said. He shook hands with Lance and Arthur and brought Gwen in for a hug. “Have a seat, please.” Merlin glared at the man nervously, and every one of his friends walked past him to go sit on the couch opposite the woman and teenage girl. Merlin slowly joined them. Hot mugs of tea appeared at the table in front of them as Merlin took a seat at the edge of the couch, next to Arthur.

“So, my friends here,” he began. “You helped them after they came out of a lake?”

“Yes, yes,” Maxwell replied. “They all stayed here several days. Very very nice to have them here.” He paused. “Would you like a biscuit?” Maxwell conjured a plate of freshly baked biscuits in front of him.

“Uh--I’m okay, actually. So do you know anything about how they might’ve gotten here?” Merlin asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, how terribly rude of me to not introduce myself. I am Cecilia, and these are my children, Porter and Evelyn. My husband is Maxwell. We help many travellers who come through here,” she said, her voice seeming to lull Merlin into a sort of sleep.

He shook his head. “That’s fantastic,” Merlin said bluntly. “But how did you know they were going to be here, and how did you know my other name--”

  
“Biscuit?” Cecilia asked, picking up one and holding it before Merlin. Her eyes were persistent, a dark brown that contrasted against her pale skin.

“No, I’m really alright,” Merlin said.

He glanced at Arthur, who was staring off into the middle distance, as if not absorbing the conversation. Lance and Gwen seemed to be zoned out too.

“Surely you must be wary from your travels. Would you all like to stay the night here?” Cecelia asked. That voice. Merlin swore he recognized it.

“Yes,” Gwen, Lance, and Arthur said in unison.

Merlin ignored their strange trance-like state and said, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Cecelia pursed her lips. “I do not believe so. We have all heard of your powers and your greatness, and we are very happy to welcome you into our home. Are you sure you would not like a biscuit?”

Merlin stood up, really thinking--no, knowing--he knew her voice from somewhere. “I really am fine,” he said sternly. He looked over to his friends; all of them had a thick glaze over their eyes now. “We really should be going,” he said nervously. Suddenly, he felt magic knock him back down to the couch.

“You won’t be going anywhere,” Maxwell said in the nicest voice ever. How could someone so sinister sound so inviting? “Not until Haicron sees you.”

Merlin’s eyes widened at the mention of Haicron’s name, and he struggled to get up from the couch. The couple’s magic was strong, but he turned to Arthur, and out of spite said, “Arthur, I know you can’t hear me right now because you’re enchanted, but I bloody told you so.”

Merlin’s mind searched and searched through all of his memories, trying to pick out Cecelia’s voice. He found it. “You’re the woman from the forest with Lance! I saw you in my dream!”

Cecelia smiled and raised a biscuit into the air with her magic, floating it toward Merlin’s mouth. “Open up, dear,” she said.

The biscuits must be important, maybe some sort of magic. Merlin turned his head. “I’m not hungry,” he said, panting.

He conjured up all the power he could will to himself and released it all as a desperate attempt at escape. Power surged through his bones and he slammed the couple from their positions on the couch to the rounded wall. The two sorcerers groaned in pain as they fell to the ground. His friends blinked beside him as Merlin quickly stood up.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked. “What’s going on?”

Merlin looked at Maxwell and Cecelia, who were just beginning to get up from where they had fallen. “Ask questions later,” Merlin said. “Come on.” Everyone rose to their feet in a panic and headed for the door. Merlin opened it with a shaky hand, but the door slammed shut before they could go through it as the daughter, Evelyn rose from the couch.

“Like Mother and Father said,” Evelyn said with a smirk. “You aren’t going anywhere.” Merlin heard Arthur gulp.


End file.
